


Good Memories

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Bottom Dean, Dirty Talk, M/M, Pre-Stanford, Rimming, Smut, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 02:50:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10688259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dean promised Sam he'd be allowed to top once he was taller than Dean. But now that time's come and Sam's got a bit of a secret.





	Good Memories

“Dean – you _promised_.”

“Yeah, like a year ago. I never thought you’d _actually_ get taller than me,” Dean argued, crossing his arms and flopping onto the creaky motel bed.

“Dude, you’re pouting,” Sam teased, standing a little more proud at the foot of the bed.

Dean glared at him for a moment. “Doesn’t matter anyways,” He mumbled.

“What doesn’t?”  
“All of this. Promises we made – It’s all going away anyways?”

Sam’s smile faded slowly. “What do you mean, Dean?”

“I mean I found your acceptance letter. To Stanford. College boy,” Dean mocked, the words stinging Sam deep down.

“Dean, I was gonna tell you—“

“No. You weren’t. Don’t lie to me, Sam – I’m not stupid.”

Sam hung his head, sighing softly.

“So, when are you leaving?”

“A couple months.”

“Dad doesn’t know, does he? You weren’t gonna tell him.”

Sam shook his head. “Not if I can help it.”

The bed groaned when Dean rose from it, stepping up to Sam. He smiled softly at his not-so-little brother, now just about half an inch taller than he was. Reaching up, he brushed Sam’s shaggy bangs out of his face before grabbing his chin and forcing Sam to look at him.

“I’m hurt you didn’t wanna tell me, but I get it. I’m not gonna try to stop you, Sammy.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. I thought—“

“That I’d be mad or hate you. It hurts, but I get it.” Sam tried to smile, but his eyes remained sad, trained on Dean’s face.

Dean stroked his thumb over Sam’s cheek. “Come on – Dad’s not supposed to be home tonight, we can have a little fun.  
Sam shook his head. “No, I—We don’t have to.”

“You’re leaving in a few months, Sam. I’d like to get as many good memories in as I can, huh?”

Sam’s face twisted and he pulled back from Dean, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

Dean sighed softly, letting his arms drop. “So that’s it then? We’re over?”

“No—I—I don’t want to break up with you, Dean—If we’re dating or whatever. I’m just not really in the mood. I’m gonna go to the library, see if there’s any books on what Dad’s hunting.”

Dean nodded, saying nothing as Sam tugged on his shoes and coat before walking out.

***

Sam didn’t return to the motel room until nearly nine that night. The library had closed at seven, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back to Dean. Not yet. Not after their last conversation. But he couldn’t avoid his brother forever, and he knew that. He was holding out hope that Dean would be out at a bar or something so he wouldn’t have to face him. No such luck.

Dean was stretched out on the bed in his just a pair of threadbare jeans when Sam opened the door. He was dozing, but sniffled and opened his eyes when Sam entered.

“Where were you?” He mumbled, voice thick.

“Library.”

“Closes at seven. It’s almost nine.”

“Went for a walk after. Sorry I worried you.” Sam tugged his jacket off, sitting at the small table and leaning down to undo his shoes.

“You didn’t worry me, Sam. I—I was hoping you’d come back a little earlier is all.”

“Why?”

Dean shrugged and stood up, grabbing a paper bag from the floor by the bed. He walked over to Sam and pushed it into his lap.

Sam scowled and opened the bag. His throat closed up and he looked up at Dean, his eyes welling with tears.

“De—“

“I’m proud of you, Sammy. No matter what. You’re a good kid, you deserve this. But I know those dorms can be nasty, so… I hope it helps.”

Inside the bag was a collection of little hygiene items in a sturdy leather satchel, as well as a nice looking pencil case filled with pens, pencils, and highlighters.

Sam reached in and pulled out a card. His name was on the front in Dean’s messy handwriting.

“Is this gonna make me cry?”

“I hope not – I don’t wanna deal with a sobbing baby brother,” Dean teased, pulling the other chair closer to Sam before sitting down.

Sam threw him a half-hearted bitchface and opened the card, pulling it out. The front was sleek white with a golden retriever puppy wearing a graduation cap. Sam smirked a little and opened it. The card was preprinted with ‘congrats!’ but Dean’s handwritten note covered most of the white space inside.

 

_‘Sammy,_

_I’m so bad at this shit. Look, I’m sorry I reacted so bad to the news. I was being an ass. Selfish. You’re so fucking smart and you didn’t deserve that. You deserved a congrats, so I’m giving it to ya. Congrats baby brother – I hope you make something of yourself. You’re worth more than this stupid life. Hunting monsters – it’s not where you’re meant to be. You’re gonna do great things with that big brain of yours. And as for us, I don’t think I’ll ever leave hunting. It’s in my blood, you know? But that doesn’t mean we have to stop being whatever we are. Boyfriends? I guess? Shit that’s weird to say – write – whatever. But you’re the only guy I wanna be with, the only one that I could see myself being with long term, ya know? And I don’t think that’ll change. But it shouldn’t hold you back from leaving. I’m here for you, Sammy. Always. If you end up finding your way back to me in the future, I’ll still be here. Just uh, you know, keep in touch if you can. If you can’t – I get it. Just remember that I’ll always be your fucked up brother and whatever else I am to you, okay? Congrats again, Sammy._

  * _D’_



Sam looked up at Dean when he finished reading, his eyes wet with unshed tears. Dean smiled shyly and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I said don’t start cryin’ now,” He mumbled.

Sam moved the bag onto the table and closed the gap between them, pulling Dean into a spine cracking hug. Dean laughed a bit and hugged him back, burying his nose in the crook of Sam’s neck.

“I’m proud of you, Sam.”

“Thank you, Dean. You—I don’t think you know how much that means to me,” Sam whispered brokenly, his voice muffled by Dean’s shoulder.

Dean slapped him on the back. “Go on, there’s something else in the bag for you. For us—um, for tonight.”

“Tonight?” Sam asked, pulling back and wiping his eyes. Dean shrugged.

“I said I’d hoped you’d come back earlier for a reason. Go on.”

Sam cocked his head a little but sat back in his chair, grabbing the bag again. He pulled out the pencil case and bathroom bag, looking at each of them with a small smile before setting them on the table.

At the bottom of the bag was a stack of candy bars, a mix of both of their favorites, and a bottle of lube. Sam laughed a little, pulling out the lube and holding it up. Dean shrugged.

“A promise is a promise, but your cock is enormous, Sam. We were running low. I was kinda hoping we could… Maybe find a movie to watch on tv. Make it kinda a—date or something.”

Sam smiled softly, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner.”

“I get it. It’s okay – you’re here now. We can wait – I’m sure Dad’ll leave us alone at some point in the next few days again, so we can—“

“No. We don’t have to watch a special movie or anything. We can find something on tv and pig out. Then see where it goes,” Sam suggested.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sam dropped the lube back into the bag and rose, grabbing his duffel. He placed the card and the two special items into it, tucking them carefully under his clothes where his acceptance letter was.

Dean stood behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle and kissing over his shoulder. Sam laughed a little.

“Keep that up and the movie will have to wait,” Sam warned as he zipped his duffel.

“Mm… I don’t mind. I’ve missed you, Sam. It’s been too long.”

Sam snorted and turned, wrapping his arms around Dean and pressing close to him. “We need to get Dad to leave us alone more often.”

“You’re telling me.”

Dean mouthed over Sam’s throat, teeth grazing his Adam’s apple. Sam let his head fall back, sighing contentedly.

They made it to the bed soon after, falling onto the covers in a tangle of arms and legs. Teeth clicking, lips swelling from kisses and lovebites.

Sam tugged his shirt over his head when Dean stepped back to grab the lube they’d forgotten on the other bed. He shucked his jeans and boxers soon after, lazily stroking his cock as Dean turned back.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in. You’re finally taller than me.”

“You know if we’d made the bet based on dick sizes—“

“You’d still be bottoming and you know it.”

“I’m thicker.”

“But I’m longer – and that’s what really matters, doesn’t it, Sammy?”

“I don’t know. You tell me when you’re getting split open.”

Dean laughed, throwing the lube at Sam’s head. “You’re such a romantic.”

“Just get in bed, you idiot,” Sam mumbled, scooting into a sitting position. Dean dropped his jeans and boxers in one motion, crawling onto the bed and up over Sam’s legs. Their mouths met halfway in a burning kiss, hands twining naturally in one another’s hair.

Sam shifted, rolling them until Dean was under him. Their cocks bumped together, drawing a groan from each. Dean bucked up, searching for more stimulation and Sam laughed a little, pulling back.

“You ever done this before?”

“Bottomed for a dude? No. I’ve you know, used my fingers and stuff.”

“So I’m kinda taking your virginity,” Sam teased. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Well it’s only fair – I took yours.” Sam smirked and shrugged. He moved back, pushing Dean’s thighs apart. Dean grabbed a pillow and shoved it under his hips to angle himself upward. He smiled softly at Sam.

“You look nervous.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I’m a big boy, Sam. You know how to stretch yourself open for me – it’s the same concept, I’ll tell you if it hurts.” Sam nodded. He leaned down, pressing kisses along Dean’s cock before dipping lower, running his tongue along his balls. Dean groaned, arching his back and burying his fingers in Sam’s hair.

“Don’t tease.”

“It’s called foreplay, asshole,” Sam muttered, puffing hot air onto Dean’s skin. Dean groaned, letting his legs rest over Sam’s shoulders.

He nearly came at the first swipe of Sam’s tongue over his sensitive hole. “Fuck—“

“That’s the plan.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam lapped over Dean’s hole again, looking up through his shaggy bangs. Their eyes met and Dean smirked, winking at him. Sam beamed, closing his eyes. He dove in then, spreading Dean’s ass with his hands before lapping and nipping at his twitching hole. Dean moaned, arching against Sam’s talented tongue.

Sam rimmed Dean until he could slip a finger in with no lube and Dean moaned, arching against him.

"Please, Sammy--"

"I got you, Dean. Don't worry."

"Please, I'm not gonna last long as it is."

Sam nodded, snagging the lube. He slicked three fingers and rubbed them over Dean's hole before pushing two in, freezing when Dean swore and clenched around him. 

"Did I hurt you?" 

Dean shook his head, grinding down on Sam's hand. "No, please, Sam-- keep going."

Sam set his jaw, focusing on stretching Dean as painlessly as possible. When he could thrust three fingers in with no real resistance, he looked up. 

"I-- I think you're ready."

Dean nodded. "I know I am. Come on, come here." Sam slicked his cock and let the tip bump against Dean's fluttering hole before laying over him. They shared a gentle kiss while Dean reached between them, grabbing Sam's cock. He guided it past the loosened muscle, breaking the kiss to toss his head back when the widest point stretched him open. He gave a decidedly unmasculine moan - that Sam would  definitely tease him for - and grabbed the sheets. 

Sam pulled Dean's hips forward at the same time he pushed up, driving the rest of his cock into Dean in a steady motion. 

They both went still, adjusting to the new feelings. Dean shivered. 

"You're fucking huge, Sam."

"Told you thick was good," Sam huffed. He pulled out slowly. 

"Yeah, shut up and-- Right there!" Dean gasped when Sam pushed back in. 

He picked up a steady, even pace, changing his angle at Dean's quiet commands. He could feel Dean's cock trapped between their stomachs, twitching and throbbing. 

Dean dragged his short nails down Sam's back. "Come on, Sammy-- I know you wanna. Show my what you can do, baby boy. Fuck me," he panted. Sam smirked at him. 

"Sure you can take it?"

"Only one way to find out." 

Sam leaned back pulling himself completely out of Dean and holding his ass open. He groaned softly at the perfectly round gape, Dean's red, slick rim fluttering at the loss. 

"Shit, that is pretty," Sam whispered. Dean chuckled. 

"Now you know why I always look at yours. Come on, Sam. I'm dyin' here."

Sam nodded, slipping his cock back in easily. He lifted Dean's legs to his shoulders and looked at him once more. Dean nodded, reaching down and grabbing Sam's thighs. "Go for it."

Dean didn't think he'd ever screamed so loud in his life as he did when Sam stopped holding back. The room was filled with the wet slap of skin and the creaking bed, punctuated with Dean's pleas for more and Sam's breathy grunts. His hips had already begun to stutter, so Dean clenched around him, fucking himself onto Sam. 

"Come on, Sammy. I know that face," Dean panted. "You wanna come. Do it, fill big brother up. Wreck my ass, baby boy." 

Sam screamed Dean's name, slumping over him. His body went still, cock throbbing deep inside Dean as he came. 

Dean flexed his ass, gently milking the come out of Sam as he stroked his own aching cock. 

Sam have two weak pumps of his hips aimed at Dean's prostate and that was all it took. Dean came hard, painting his chest and stomach in splashes of white as he called Sam’s name like a mantra.

 

Sam rolled off Dean with a groan when he was sure he could move again. Dean grimaced at the wet feeling between his legs for a moment then smiled over at his sleepy brother.

“How was it?”

“Amazing,” Sam panted. Dean chuckled, sitting up and groaning.

“We need a shower.”

“Dean—“

Dean looked down at Sam, hearing concern in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“I—“ Sam bit his lip and sat up, reaching over and taking Dean’s hand. “Come to California with me. We could be out there, no one knows we’re brothers. We could be happy together, please?”

Dean grimaced, looking down at their hands – anything to avoid that puppydog expression Sam gave so well. He shook his head slowly.

“I can’t, Sammy. I can’t leave Dad.”

“Dad’ll get it. He’d want us to have our own lives, wouldn’t he?”

“No – you know he won’t. That’s why you’re not telling him. Sam, I can’t.”

Sam pulled his hand out of Dean’s grip and Dean looked over, wincing at the near-tears expression on Sam’s face.

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

Sam nodded, closing his eyes. “I get it.”

“Sammy—“

Sam shook his head. “It’s Sam. I’m gonna get a shower. You can join me if you want,” He whispered before he turned and rose from the bed, walking silently into the bathroom.

Dean flopped back onto the pillow, covering his eyes with his forearm. He could say yes. He could leave it all behind and be happy with Sam—But it would kill their father. He couldn’t do that. Sam would have to understand.

Maybe, in the future, after Dad got his revenge and hunting had become a thing of the past, they could fix things. Dean could give Sam the life he wants. But not now.

Steeling himself for a fight, or worse: a crying little brother, Dean rose and padded into the bathroom. He stepped into the shower, his head hung.

Sam turned, watching him for a moment.

“Sam—“

“Shut up,” He whispered. He wrapped his arms tightly around Dean, burying his face in his neck. “I get it.”

“Do you?” Dean whispered, setting his hands on Sam’s hips.

“No. But I—I get that it’s an impossible decision and that you can’t make both me and Dad happy. You have to pick a side.”

Dean shook his head, nuzzling against Sam’s shoulder. “I’m not picking a side, Sammy. You mean everything to me. But Dad—He wouldn’t make it without us. Without me at least. You leaving is gonna kill him. You’re strong enough to go on alone – I don’t think he is.”

Sam nodded, not making any move to let Dean go.

“You’re not mad at me?” Dean whispered finally. Sam shook his head, his wet hair spraying droplets of water down Dean’s back.

“No. I couldn’t be mad at you.”

“Someday I’ll fix this all, Sam. I promise.”

Sam stepped back and offered what was supposed to be a comforting smile. “I know you will. You never break your promises to me. We’ll just—Make as many good memories as we can until then, huh?”

Dean smiled sadly, pushing Sam’s wet hair off his forehead. “Sounds like a plan, Sammy.”

 


End file.
